LONG BEFORE the bright lights of a Seoul television studio found her, Gwyn’s spotlight was much smaller — a soft glow from a family karaoke machine inside a home in Quezon City.
At three years old, while other toddlers were still learning their ABCs, Gwyneth Jearei “Gwyn” Dorado was already gripping a microphone, belting out the heartbreak anthem “Pusong Bato.” It was an unlikely choice for a child, but music came naturally to her nonetheless.
“My parents aren’t musically inclined; they just wanted to see what instruments I was good at and what else was in store for me,” Dorado told The Flame.
With the guidance of her parents, Dorado’s relationship with music deepened at a young age. They first placed a toy piano in her hands, watching as she picked out the melody of “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star” by ear. A guitar followed soon after. Before long, it became clear that singing was not just a skill; it was instinct.
Those early, unpolished notes eventually led her to vocal training at the Center for Pop Music in Quezon City. Each lesson added another layer to a voice that would one day travel far beyond the walls of her home.
Now 21 years old, the former Artlets student stands as the only foreign contestant in the high-stakes South Korean vocal competition Sing Again 4. Her journey to this global stage, however, was not a sudden rise but a symphony long in the making — one that has been building its crescendo for more than a decade.
A voice beyond her years
Video from the official YouTube channel of Asia’s Got Talent
When she was ten years old, Dorado took her first leap onto an international platform, Asia’s Got Talent, where she secured an opportunity to join just three days before the audition deadline.
“We only had a short time to prepare, so we had to hurry,” Dorado recalled.
“We were really freaking out. It was unprepared, uncalled for, we had no expectations, but fortunately, I got into the finals.”
With powerhouse vocals and a poise that belied her age, she stunned judges, including renowned music producer David Foster, and went on to become the youngest finalist of the season.
Soon, she found herself swept up in a whirlwind of local stardom, balancing her childhood with the demands of public appearances and media work. Her face became a familiar sight on Philippine television through her regular guest appearances on Sunday variety shows, such as ABS-CBN’s “ASAP” and GMA’s “Sunday All Stars.”
Video from the official YouTube channel of ABS-CBN News
During the 2015 State of the Nation Address, Dorado sang the national anthem before Cabinet officials — a moment few her age could claim.
Yet despite her growing career, Dorado heeded her mother’s wish that she experience a grounded high school life. She focused on preparing for the 2017 University of Santo Tomas Entrance Test (USTET) and was later admitted to UST Education High School (UST-EHS).
Transitioning into student life came with its own adjustments. Having lived abroad, she carried a Singaporean accent and “conyo” speech patterns.
“I would travel to a lot of places because I lived in Singapore since the first grade, so I had an accent… at least, that’s what my friends told me,” Dorado noted.
Although her classmates quickly noticed her quirks, she still managed to embrace the change and blend in.
Between classrooms and curtains
During the 2017 ROARientation, the University’s welcome event for freshmen, Dorado cemented her presence in UST-EHS with a performance of Katy Perry’s “Roar.” To her, it was a fitting anthem for a girl learning to find her voice in a new setting.
However, crossing the threshold into high school didn’t mean leaving her artistic aspirations at the door; even as she faced the new academic demands, she remained steadfast in pursuing her musical dreams.
High school soon became a balancing act of two identities. By day, she was a student grappling with Araling Panlipunan; by night, she transformed into Luisa von Trapp in the professional run of The Sound of Music.
“I had a really hard time at first, since my schedule was always packed with academics and theater,” Dorado said.
“It was a struggle.”
Her rehearsals for musical theater ran from 4 p.m. until midnight. She would arrive home by 1 a.m., only to wake at 5 a.m. for school.
However, despite enduring such an exhausting routine, her academic performance remained unwavering. She successfully retained her scholarship throughout her secondary education, all while remaining actively involved in campus activities.
During Arts Week, she directed her class production of The Sound of Music. In a bittersweet twist, she missed the final performance — rushing instead to a professional commitment.
It was during these formative years that friends began to notice her artistic shift.
“You can clearly see that now she’s not just singing because she likes to,” said her close friend John Ganibo.
“She sings because she needs to share a story…to show the deeper purpose behind every song.”
Beyond the spotlight, Dorado remained grounded by the school’s structure.
“The essence of studying — I love it,” she recalled. “I loved school, reading, writing and listening to lessons.”
She shared this passion with a tight-knit circle of 12 friends. No theater ovation, she said, could rival the sound of their cheers during recitation drills.
“I wish I could go back to high school, when I’d be excited to see my friends every day,” she said.
But the rhythm of school life would soon be interrupted by a global standstill.
Singing in quiet spaces
Dorado’s senior high school years in the Music, Arts, and Design (MAD) strand marked a darker chapter. Confined to the Frassati Building during hybrid learning, she described the experience as “zombie-like,” comparing the blocked windows and crowded halls to a hospital.
“Those were low moments, both because of the pandemic and the increasingly intense senior high school schedule,” Dorado said.
“The hard part was being cooped up in the Frassati building all day. There were windows, but they kept them closed to block out the glare. It was depressing.”
Video from the official YouTube channel of ImDorado
It was during this period that she wrote the ballad “Why Do We Love,” a song that questions if the pain of love is worth the risk of eventually becoming strangers again. Unsatisfied with it at the time, she shelved the song until her mother encouraged her to share it years later.
The video went viral — eventually reaching South Korea, where it caught the attention of AO Entertainment. Dorado initially met the prospect with disbelief.
“At first I thought it was a scam,” she admitted.
“I was like… they’re going to recruit me? In Korea?”
However, after a series of virtual meetings established the agency’s legitimacy, she and her mother traveled to South Korea to formally sign the contract.
This milestone effectively cut short her time in the Faculty of Arts and Letters, where she had been studying Communication to hone her expression. With the contract signed, the months of discussion culminated in a life-altering choice: a relocation to Seoul.
Shaped by routine, rooted in faith
For the past 18 months, Seoul has served as Dorado’s training ground — with a near-militaristic routine running from dawn until late evening.
To better adapt to the Korean “ppalli ppalli” (“hurry, hurry”) culture, which emphasizes speed and efficiency in work and daily life, she immersed herself deeply in the language, even minimizing speaking Tagalog for a time to refine her accent.
“Every day, she keeps improving herself,” said her longtime friend Mary Joyce Cuenco.
“She has never been afraid of criticism or growth.”
Her discipline, however, is grounded in something more personal: faith. She admits missing her mother deeply, but uses that feeling as fuel.
“There are times when I really miss my mom, days that are tiring, that I start looking for my mom, so I use this to work even harder,” Dorado said.
Even amid the pressures of training, she also makes time for Bible study — a non-negotiable part of her day.
“She inspired me to return to God,” Ganibo shared.
“She remains grounded and humble.”
A voice that bridged borders
To Dorado, breaking into the Korean entertainment industry as a Filipino felt like trying to scale a glass wall.
Heeding her mother’s advice — “connect first, project later” — Dorado fully embraced the language. For her first Sing Again 4 performance, she spent four months perfecting pronunciation, striving for near-native delivery.
As the competition progressed, preparation time shrank to just one or two weeks per piece.
Now recognized as Contestant Number 59, she is often spotted as the “sole foreigner” singing in Korean.
During the Dec. 16 broadcast, she delivered a jazz-infused performance dedicated to her first love at UST — accompanied by a childhood snapshot of her posing at the UST block letters, which flashed on-screen.
Then history unfolded.
Video from the official YouTube channel of JTBC Music
Her rendition of “I Want You” earned 798 points — the highest in Sing Again history. She surpassed her own record in the final round.
Her versatility resonated not only with judges but with viewers, securing her the second-highest public vote.
“For the last stage, rather than focusing on winning, I will put my whole heart into it,” she was quoted as saying in an article from Maeil Business Newspaper.
As the first foreign contestant and finalist, she carved her place in Korean music history. Yet through the pressure and acclaim, she remained unfailingly humble.
Still standing beneath studio lights, Dorado remains composed — a steadiness she attributes to the discipline she learned in high school.
“School trained me to plan, to schedule, to finish what I start,” she said.
Even while training, she continues her Associate in Arts degree at UP Open University.
“I won’t live in Korea forever,” she said.
“My goal is to bring OPM to a Western audience and represent the Philippines while doing it.”
The spotlight now is brighter than the karaoke glow of her childhood — the music grander than the toy piano she once played.
But the heart behind the voice remains the same.
Armed with a sound that bridges cultures, Gwyneth Dorado is no longer just singing for a room, a school or a stage. The world is simply her next audience. F – Levie Julianne Martin
